


Quidditch Through the Ages

by GirlWithaPearlEarring



Series: Slytherin Ginny [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And boy kissing, Boys Kissing, Can't forget the boy kissing, F/M, Flint/Wood happens before Draco/Ginny in this AU, Get your act together, Ginny & Ron as Twins, I almost broke the character limit insane, Like insanely long, M/M, Quidditch, Rated for Flint's Language, Slytherin Ginny Weasley, That's all this one is about, That's just sad guys, There's also some offscreen boy kissing, Very long story notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-19 13:08:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11314056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GirlWithaPearlEarring/pseuds/GirlWithaPearlEarring
Summary: [Warning: features an AU in which Ginny and Ron Weasley are twins and Ginny is in Slytherin.]Ginny Weasley may be twelve and a blood traitor, but she's getting on the Slytherin Quidditch team if it kills her.orThe author discovers she just wants to write Ginny surrounded by surly Slytherin boys.





	1. Years 2 and 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An overview of Ginny's first two years on the Slytherin Quidditch team.

Glancing around at her fellow Chasers-to-be, Ginny felt especially small. Nevertheless, she squared her shoulders, grit her teeth, and met Marcus Flint's calculating gaze with no small amount of determination.

“What're you doing here, Weasley?” he asked, sneering.

“Not sure my father would be willing to extend his generosity to a blood traitor,” said Malfoy, looking coldly down at her from the stands. The rest of the team ranged around him laughed appreciatively.

“I'm here to fly,” she said, looking only at Flint. She will not back down, not least to this unruly bunch of elitist idiots.

Flint's sneer lost a bit of its edge, something like approval creeping in. “All right!” he barked, addressing all those trying out, “In the air, all of you! Basic drills first.”

Ginny focused on nothing but the ball, the weight of her broom, and the ingrained sense of when to dodge, when to pass, when to throw. Flint's approval seemed to grow with every successful round, first maneuvering, then passing, and then adding in the Bludgers. Finally, they were down to Ginny and a very burly third year named Urquhart whose primary talent seemed to lie in muscling his way through life.

“Alright,” said Flint. “Pucey, Montague, get out here. The rest of you, pay attention!”

Flint had Urquhart fly with himself against Pucey and Montague, two a side Quidditch with no keepers or beaters. Ginny thought he did fairly well until he nearly got his arm taken off by a Bludger and fumbled the next few catches.

Flint didn't look pleased. “Weasley, get over here!” he bellowed at her.

She mounted up, passing Urquhart in the air, who took the opportunity to ram his shoulder into hers. She winced, but kept flying.

Flint may have been a complete tosser, but he could definitely fly. Ginny focused only on that as she dipped and dodged around the field, relying on his strength if she needed to relinquish control of the Quaffle. A particularly tense moment came when Pucey and Montague tried to steamroller her from the sides simultaneously, but she was able to roll up and out of the way just in time, causing the two to collide. She could've sworn she heard Bletchley cheering at the time, though it was quickly stifled.

Finally, Flint called a halt. There was a brief team meeting, during which there were several outbursts from the players and Ginny and Urquhart stood to the side, studiously ignoring each other.

“He can take it up with me then, Malfoy,” growled Flint, breaking up the huddle. He glared over at the two hopefuls. “Weasley, you're in. Urquhart, beat it.”

Bletchley grinned at her and Pucey seemed unfazed, but otherwise the animosity from all sides was intense. She ignored it. “Thanks.”

“Don't think you'll be getting any favors,” grunted Flint. “You flew alright today, but if that changes, you're out.” And with that, he turned and headed for the locker room. Most of the team followed close behind, glaring at her, but none more intensely than Malfoy.

“That was practically a love letter coming from Flint,” Bletchley said. He thumped her on the shoulder. “Amazing flying, Weasley.”

She grinned, breathing out for what felt the first time in ages. “Thanks.”

 

* * *

 

The thing of it was, Malfoy wasn't a bad Quidditch player. Ginny would go so far as to admit he was one of the better ones at Hogwarts when he was actually focused on the game. Which was the main problem, to be honest.

Nerves, she could deal with. Growing up with Ron was certainly evidence of that. She knew how to calm him down and she knew how to make them worse. (Which may or may not have been a key game point come their fifth year.) But Malfoy had a specific set of problems, beginning with an over-inflated ego and ending with Harry Potter. Combine the two and the Slytherin team would be lucky if Malfoy came within five yards of the Snitch all game.

Ginny winced with the rest of the team as Flint reamed into Malfoy anew. Apparently, even a gift of seven top-of-the-line racing brooms wasn't enough to deter Flint when a game was on the line.

“Why's he so ticked?” Pucey muttered to Bletchley. “It's the first game of the season, innit?”

“Last time he gets to play Gryffindor, though,” Bletchley answered, smirking.

Flint raged on, oblivious. “Next time you can get an _augeo_ on your bloody fat head so maybe—”

“All right, Flint?” came Oliver Wood's voice as he stuck his head around the door, smirking. “How's that new Seeker coming, eh?”

“Get out of it, Wood!” Montague growled from the corner. Flint shouted something much more derogatory and chased Wood out, continuing to shout down the corridor.

Bletchley just laughed. “The betting pool's still going strong if you want in, Weasley,” he offered as Malfoy slouched past, bright pink and trailing mud everywhere.

“I've got ten galleons on the last day of term,” murmured Higgs from where he was leaning casually against the wall.

“I still say it'll happen at the end of the Quidditch final,” started Pucey, “but only if—”

“Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff wins, we get it,” groaned Bletchley. “You've only been going on about it since first year.”

Ginny glanced at Malfoy to see if he understood any of that, but he was staring resolutely at his boots, charming the mud off one lace at a time. She scrunched her nose and sighed. He was going to be a complete nightmare in Potions tomorrow.

“I'm sorry,” she turned back to Bletchley. “A betting pool for what?”

Flint chose that moment to storm back into sight. “What the hell are you all still doing here?”

“Erm, nothing,” Bletchley muttered.

 

* * *

 

A few months before the last match of her third year, Ginny was seriously considering either stuffing Bole's bat down his throat or kicking Montague straight into the stands. And Flint was seriously _not_ helping.

“Alright, team,” he addressed them in a loose huddle in midair. “Fair turnout today. Pucey, work on your awareness. Bole, hit more with the broad side, sends 'em with more speed. Malfoy, I don't know what your problem is, but get it together. And Weasley,” he paused, glaring at her.

She glared right back. “I'm not doing it, Flint. You want a fouler, you've got the rest of your thugs, but I play Quidditch, not midair wrestling.”

“You won't be playing anything, with that attitude,” he growled menacingly, flying forward to loom over her.

“So kick me off then!”

He didn't respond verbally, but his eyes narrowed even more and he fisted a hand in the front of her robes, drawing uncomfortably close.

“Hey!” shouted Bletchley and Malfoy, hovering closer, but it was Pucey's quiet “Marcus” that did it.

He let go, shoving her away hard enough to put several feet between them. “Fine,” he grunted. “Do it your way. Just stay out of mine.” He glanced around at them. “Dismissed. Malfoy, I don't want to see you at dinner for another half hour.”

Malfoy colored indignantly, but didn't say anything.

As Flint and the others drifted away, Bletchley punched her in the shoulder, none too gently. “You got a death wish or something, Weasley?” he asked. “He looked about two seconds away from pummeling you.”

She rubbed her shoulder ruefully, looking after the others. “He wouldn't've. Knows I wouldn't stay if he did.”

“Think that highly of yourself, huh?” he asked skeptically. “You know, one day Flint won't be Captain anymore. Then what?”

“We'll see,” she said quietly, now looking at the distant figure of Malfoy. “You go ahead, I'll catch up later.”

Bletchley sighed explosively and shook his head at her. “Yeah, later.”

It was almost a full hour later that Ginny wandered into the Great Hall with Malfoy, talking about the latest Tornadoes game and nothing else.

 

* * *

 

The match itself was memorable in that Ginny didn't kill any of her teammates and that her teammates didn't kill any of the Gryffindors. Though both events certainly came close a couple times.

Flint began the bloodshed by slamming into Angelina Johnson while the Quaffle was nowhere in sight. Her brothers were giving as good as they got, especially after Montague and Bole sent both Bludgers straight into Wood with no Chasers in range. Bole comparing Alicia Spinnet to a Bludger had to take the cake, however. She couldn't really fault Malfoy grabbing Harry's broom, though. If he'd caught the Snitch then, Gryffindor would've won the match and the cup.

Of course, it didn't end up mattering in the end. While flying with the rest of her team, sans Malfoy, to block yet another goal, Harry ended up catching the Snitch right before Angelina could score, making Gryffindor win the match, but tie for the cup.

It was hard to tell who was more enraged, Flint or Wood. They stood on either side of the enormous cup, each grabbing a handle. Ginny was fairly certain it would've already torn down the middle if it wasn't magically reinforced.

Two things of note happened that night.

  1. For the first time in living memory, Gryffindors and Slytherins attended a celebration together.

  2. Ginny won fifty galleons through the betting pool, splitting the pot with Zabini and Parvati Patil, after coercing Colin Creevey to take photographic evidence of Flint and Wood snogging in a corridor.




 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -I know this section focused way more on Ginny than Malfoy (or Ginny/Draco), but I just had an enormous craving to see tiny second year Ginny determined to play Quidditch, even if it meant being on a team with almost everyone being twice her size. And of course she would clash like crazy with Flint, but he wants her on the team since she's so good at what she does.
> 
> -As is briefly alluded to, you can be absolutely sure that Ginny took full advantage of her knowledge of Ron's inner workings to stress him out even more than Malfoy does in the fifth and sixth books. What? So long as it doesn't break any rules, what's a little friendly rivalry?
> 
> -Terence Higgs was Slytherin's Seeker in Philosopher's Stone, then disappeared afterwards. So, either he graduated or Flint replaced him with Malfoy, since Malfoy Sr. so generously gifted all those Nimbus 2001s. I'm of the latter opinion, since Flint is on par with Wood with his Quidditch fanaticism (part of why I ship them) and would see nothing wrong with bumping off his teammate to accept the bribe. Higgs shows up in a few scenes here since (in my head) he's still friends with some of the team and misses playing, plus he doesn't begrudge Flint for what he did.
> 
> -Marcus Flint canonically repeats his seventh year but manages to keep his Captaincy (I'm guessing because of Snape's favoritism). So that's why Bletchley thinks their second year game against Gryffindor is Flint's last, but that ends up not being the case.
> 
> -For reference, I read through every Quidditch game mentioned in the first three books, and – in reference to the Quidditch final in Prisoner of Azkaban – I just wanted to point out that my suspension of disbelief does not stretch far enough to include the fact that every single Slytherin Quidditch player flew screaming out of the way of a scrawny thirteen year old with glasses, no matter what model of broom he was flying. I'm sorry, but unless the Firebolt is made of titanium, those established-to-be enormous and quite fearless Quidditch players wouldn't have given a single fuck. So I fixed it. You're welcome.
> 
> -Hold tight, cause I got a list of the Slytherin Quidditch lineup for this crazy AU: (Captain is noted with an asterisk*)
> 
> -First Year: Chasers-*Marcus Flint, Adrian Pucey, (probably Montague); Beaters-unknown; Keeper-Miles Bletchley; Seeker-Terence Higgs (i.e. as canon)  
> -Second and Third Year: Chasers-*Marcus Flint, Adrian Pucey, Ginny Weasley; Beaters-Graham Montague, Lucian Bole; Keeper-Miles Bletchley; Seeker-Draco Malfoy (canon-Montague was a Chaser and Peregrine Derrick was a Beater)  
> -Fourth Year: no Quidditch (Triwizard Tournament)  
> -Fifth Year: Chasers-*Adrian Pucey, Ginny Weasley, Cassius Warrington; Beaters-Graham Montague, Gregory Goyle; Keeper-Miles Bletchley; Seeker-Draco Malfoy (canon-Montague was a Chaser and Crabbe and Goyle were the Beaters)  
> -Sixth Year: Chasers-*Ginny Weasley, Vaisey (replaced by Urquhart in the final), Blaise Zabini; Beaters-Gregory Goyle, Millicent Bulstrode; Keeper-Harper; Seeker-Draco Malfoy (canon-Urquhart was a Chaser and the captain, Crabbe was the second Beater, there was no named Keeper, Harper was the reserve Seeker, and Vaisey was not replaced at all in the game against Gryffindor)  
> -Seventh Year: probably no Quidditch (Wizarding War)
> 
> -Years of Graduation: (*educated guess)  
> 1994: Marcus Flint  
> 1995: Lucian Bole, Peregrine Derrick  
> 1996: Graham Montague, Adrian Pucey, *Miles Bletchley, *Terence Higgs, Cassius Warrington  
> 1997: *Vaisey, *Urquhart (first names unknown)  
> 1998: Ginny Weasley, Draco Malfoy, Gregory Goyle, Vincent Crabbe, Blaise Zabini, Millicent Bulstrode  
> 1999: Harper (first name unknown) 
> 
> -Canonically, Adrian Pucey is on the team for first, second, and fifth year. So, for whatever reason, he decided to skip out on Quidditch for two years in a row. I changed that, cause I didn't want to have to deal with Warrington coming in for third year on top of the Flint/Wood rivalry and Ginny needed another ally on the team. (Because Warrington is canonically an asshole and Pucey seems to mostly fade into the background so I can do more with him.)
> 
> -In the books, the Captaincy goes Flint → Montague → Urquhart. But I hate both of those idiots and I thought Ginny might've made enough of an impression on Flint to get him to change his mind on some pretty fundamental ideas (like good flier > good fouler). At least enough to pass the Captaincy to Pucey (who would definitely choose Ginny, no questions asked).


	2. Conclusion of the Betting Pool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Gryffindors and Slytherins hold their first joint party and the betting pool concerning Oliver Wood and Marcus Flint is finally resolved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't help going into more detail for the last little bit of the first chapter. So here's more Flint/Wood for you, you're welcome.

With the party in full swing and the novelty of people like Daphne and Seamus Finnigan interacting peacefully together wearing off, Ginny wandered through the crowd, looking for Ron or the twins. She had just glimpsed a mop of flaming red hair when she was thrown very effectively off balance by an arm looping across her elbow and whirling her into a corner.

“There are easier ways to get my attention, you know,” she grumbled to Bletchley's cheeky grin.

“None more fun, though,” he assured her. “Question for you: seen Flint around recently?”

“Since when do I keep tabs on him?”

He gave her a significant look. “Since your wager's coming up, that's when.”

She started, having forgotten her spur-of-the-moment decision a few months ago after a particularly tense altercation with the Gryffindor Quidditch team. If this wasn't the moment, she wasn't sure if it would happen at all. She glanced around quickly; thanks to his height, Flint was fairly easy to spot in a room, even one so crowded as this, but saw no sign of him.

Bletchley was watching her. “Tried that already. Montague said something about him heading to the kitchens, though if Wood isn't around...”

“There's not much point in going after him,” she finished thoughtfully. “After all that trouble with rearranging the pool when he failed last year – can't let this pass by.”

“My thoughts exactly,” said Pucey, popping up out of seemingly nowhere. His lips twitched when she jumped, then added, “Could always ask one of your Gryffindors.”

She glared. “You make them sound like my pets, not my _friends_.”

Bletchley snorted and Pucey raised an eyebrow. Ginny ignored them, having seen Harry walking nearby.

As he went to pass their corner, Ginny started to say, “Hey, Har—”, but Pucey grabbed his elbow and dragged him into their midst.

“—ry,” finished Ginny, glaring at her teammates while Harry looked around in irritated confusion.

“You seen Wood anywhere, Potter?” asked Bletchley while Pucey loomed stoically and Ginny fumed.

“...Why?”

“Because we'd like to give him a bouquet. Why do you think, Potter?”

“It's about the betting pool, Harry,” explained Ginny, elbowing Pucey out of the way. “I've got two galleons on tonight.”

“Oh,” he said, surprised. “I thought you said—”

“Yeah, well, changed my mind. So have you seen him?”

“Not recently.”

Ginny opened her mouth, but at that moment, Malfoy came up behind her and nearly body-checked her straight into Harry, who caught her reflexively, glaring at Malfoy.

“Oi, Pucey, Bletchley, can't you see they're trying to have a moment here?” he asked maliciously. He tapped his chin in mock thought. “I don't think much for your taste, Potter, though at least this one's in Slytherin. What happened, the other Weasley leave you for the mudblood?”

Ginny pushed out of Harry's grip, getting right into Malfoy's face as she snarled, “You ever want to use your cauldron again without it blowing up in your face, you'll shut your trap, Malfoy.”

He blinked at her proximity, before regaining his sneer. “A curse like that? You wouldn't know the first step.”

“ _Try me_.”

Something in her tone must've been convincing because Malfoy's haughty expression flickered and he backed up, keeping eye contact for a moment before slipping away into the crowd. Ginny watched him out of sight, a disappointed anger burning in her gut. She supposed it was too much to ask that the festive atmosphere might make him behave less like the slimy git he'd become this year and more like the boy who used to make her laugh with his impressions.

She sighed and turned back to the others who, she realized suddenly, were having a quiet conversation among themselves.

“What're you talking about?” she asked warily. Harry jumped and looked at her with wide eyes while the other two affected a blank, thoroughly suspicious stare.

“Erm,” started Harry.

“You know what? I don't want to know. So did we figure out where Wood is?”

“No one's seen him for a while,” said Pucey with a sort of solemn mischief. “Guess that kitchen trek is starting to look likely.”

“I'll go with you,” stated Ginny immediately.

“I never had this conversation,” said Harry almost as quickly, waving and squeezing past Derrick, who seemed to be having a spirited argument with Alicia Spinnet about what constituted a Bludging foul.

“You'll need some evidence,” mused Bletchley, “No one in the pool's going to believe just your word.”

“Taken care of,” said Ginny brightly. “Just need to find that Creevey kid.”

“The one with that bloody camera?” asked Bletchley with a sour expression. “I guess that'll work.”

“If you can get him to belt up long enough to get the shot,” agreed Pucey. He got on his knees, beckoning first to Ginny, then to his shoulders.

“Really?” she grinned. “Adrian, I don't need—” but she cut off with a yelp as Bletchley, laughing, picked her up and dangled her over Pucey.

“Geroff, you brute!” she laughed, kicking out, but Pucey managed to grab her flailing ankles and between the two of them, she was soon sitting high enough to see over everyone's heads. She took a small amount of pleasure in gripping Pucey's hair maybe a little too tight while she scanned the crowd. Several people were already pointing and laughing by the time she spotted Creevey's tiny figure hovering near the drinks table.

It took a fair amount of first ensuring the tiny second year that they weren't there to pummel him, then convincing him it really was in his best interest (but mostly everyone's in the betting pool) that he should follow them and take what might be the riskiest picture of his life.

“Of course, we could just borrow the camera and give it back tomorrow,” offered Bletchley with a slightly manic grin and Creevey gulped and nearly tripped over himself rushing to offer his services. Ginny was severely thankful she was attempting this with Pucey and Bletchley. Anyone else – she shuddered to think of a brute like Bole – and she'd have had a hard time convincing them not to hex the kid on principle.

“Have fun, kids!” waved Bletchley at the entrance to the classroom. “Be home by eight!”

 

* * *

 

In retrospect, they really should've known Flint and Wood would choose the most obvious corridor in which to finally vent their feelings.

“I wonder who else has already stumbled by?” mused Pucey in a whisper.

Ginny opened her mouth to retort, but a masculine groan echoed through the passageway next to them and she closed it again, desperately trying to rid herself of the mental image of Flint nearly flattening Oliver Wood to the wall as they violently attacked each others mouths.

“I mean, I'm happy for them but,” she paused as Wood's yelp sounded behind her. “Oh, let's just get this over with!”

“Your ears are red,” observed Pucey. She ignored him.

“You want me to do it, Colin?” she asked, taking pity on the ashen-faced boy hiding behind her.

“No!” he squeaked. “No, I can do it. I just—” He cleared his throat and nodded, resolute. He pointed his chin up and marched to the passageway entrance, while Ginny and Pucey shared an exasperated look. Gryffindors.

“This is going to get ugly fast,” whispered Pucey behind her as Creevey raised the camera with shaking hands. “You ready, Weasley?”

She smirked. “I'm thinking Porksoff Feint. You up for it?” Pucey tapped her twice on her left shoulder, the Slytherin team signal for 'all clear'. Her smirk widened.

The flash of the camera was blinding in the otherwise darkening hall. With an interesting squelching sound, Flint and Wood detached, staring wide-eyed at their spectators. For a moment, no one moved.

Then the camera made a whirring noise and spit out a fresh photograph, which Creevey seemed to take automatically. “Er, hi,” he whispered in terror.

Ginny snatched the camera and photo from his nerveless fingers, winked at her captain, and raced down the hall toward Pucey.

“WEASLEY!” came Flint's thunderous shout.

Creevey nearly hit the opposite wall of the corridor as Flint bowled him over while tearing out of the passageway, Wood right behind him. Ginny neatly handed off the photograph to Pucey as she passed him and switched the camera to a snug Quaffle position, picking up her speed. She just barely saw Pucey give Flint a finger salute while neatly side-stepping his attempt to punch him as he ran by, photograph nowhere in sight. Grinning so hard her cheeks smarted, she ran on.

After a few interesting maneuvers, most memorably Ginny kicking off the wall to bypass Flint's attempt to grab her only to roll between Wood's astonished legs, she skidded around a corner and nearly ran straight into Flint, who was waiting patiently in the doorway for her. Spinning around nimbly, she found her way back blocked by Wood, arms stretched and looking grim.

She laughed awkwardly. “Nice night, isn't it?”

“Nowhere to run, Weasley,” snarled Flint, stretching his hand out. “Hand it over.”

“Really, Ginny,” agreed Wood. “I'd really rather not—”

“Nice mark, Wood,” she cut across him, tapping her neck where he now sported a large area of purplish skin. “I can ask Pansy if you can borrow her concealer if you want.” She winked back at Flint who, she was surprised to see, actually flushed.

She was less surprised when he tackled her to the ground.

Ignoring Wood's cry of “Flint, watch it!”, he snatched the camera and stood with a triumphant smile. It became significantly less triumphant when he realized there was no photograph to be seen.

“Where is it, Weasley?” he growled, hoisting her none-too-gently by the front of her robes back to her feet.

Ginny shrugged expansively. “If I had to guess...” she trailed off, tapping her chin. Flint shook her slightly; she forced him away before saying, “Halfway back to the party by now!” and took off running again.

As she turned the corner she distinctly heard Wood say, amid Flint's explosive swearing, “Honestly, it's not as though we've been subtle.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -I'm not saying it definitely happened, but it's certainly a possibility that Harry was discussing the creation of a new betting pool with Pucey and Bletchley concerning the star couple of this series... (This may or may not come into play, I haven't decided yet.)
> 
> -A Porksoff Feint is not actually an established Quidditch maneuver, but rather one created from two existing ones: the Porksoff Play (in which a Chaser flies up with the Quaffle to supposedly score, then drops it to another Chaser below, who actually does score) and the Wronski Feint (a dangerous Seeker diversion designed to make the opposing Seeker crash into the ground). 
> 
> -So in my mind the Porksoff Feint is a Chaser maneuver in which one Chaser loops another, secretly passing off the Quaffle but still pretending to have it while the other Chaser can get through to score. Ginny is fond of this sort of play style in this AU, another point in her favor in the eyes of the Slytherin team. Even if she doesn't like to foul, as least she introduces them to clever tricks.


	3. Grim Defeat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malfoy's an idiot and the big brother!Flint/Ginny trope is getting a little ridiculous.

“Can't see a blasted thing.”

“Lucky break we're not playing in this, eh?”

“Higgs, what's the score?”

Ginny squinted under her hood at Higgs, who was looking through his binoculars up at the board.

“80-30, Gryffindor leading,” he reported grimly.

Pansy shivered next to her and Millicent surreptitiously moved slightly closer on the other side, huddling for warmth in the freezing downpour. Behind her she could hear Malfoy jeering as the Gryffindor Chasers flew past, barely distinguishable from the Hufflepuffs.

“What the hell, Wood,” murmured Flint from her right, scowling at the Gryffindor Keeper as he called for a time-out. Lightning cracked through the sky and Ginny shuddered involuntarily. She eyed Flint's rich graphorn-lined cloak and vaguely wondered how badly he would hex her if she were to lean into it.

“Tch, more Gryffindor fairness,” muttered Higgs, peering at the team huddle below. “Looks like Granger's done summat to Potter's glasses.”

Flint growled, his scowl deepening, and Ginny edged away from him, quickly revising her earlier idea. Malfoy's derogatory shout as the teams resumed play was cut off as Flint shouted over his shoulder, “Bloody pay attention, Malfoy! Might actually be able to play instead of faffing about next match!”

Glancing behind her, Ginny smirked to see Malfoy turn pink before she jerked her attention back around to Daphne's gasp. “Oh my...”

Dementors. Hundreds of them. They swarmed the field, vast and terrifying, and all Ginny could think was _No, not him,_ please _..._

“ _I'm so pleased we had a chance to meet, Ginny._ ”

“ _It'll be over soon, just close your eyes and before you know it..._ ”

She was shaking like mad, jostling into Flint now whether it was a good idea or not, when Malfoy strangled a yell behind her and Pansy pointed into the sky, shrieking, “Look!”

Of course. The dementors effected Harry even more than her; she vividly recalled the train and Harry screaming and collapsing – he was collapsing now too, off the broom and falling fifty feet toward the hard ground...

“Harry!” she cried, desperate and barely in control. She clawed at the railing and lifted herself up, barely conscious of her actions, only that she must get to Harry before he hit the ground, he couldn't...

“Weasley, are you mad?” came a voice in her ear before someone threw an arm around her shoulders, physically wrestling her back from the edge.

She fought back, screaming and shaking, but stopped as Dumbledore appeared on the field, commanding and powerful. It was only then she realized the arm clamped around her shoulders was shaking almost as much as she was.

“I'm fine, geroff,” she muttered hastily, shoving Malfoy away.

“You don't look it,” he snarled viciously, but his face was much paler than usual. Ginny vaguely registered Zabini raising a delicate eyebrow and Pansy's wooden expression before Bletchley elbowed his way past Malfoy and steadied her with a hand to her shoulder when she swayed.

She scowled and tried to shove him off. “I _am_ fine, so if everyone could kindly shove off staring.” She saw Bletchley and Flint share a look over her head, then Flint was grabbing her arm and bodily moving her toward the stairs, following the flow of shell-shocked students back to the castle.

She felt her ears flaming and resolutely avoided the eyes of her fellow Slytherins all the way back to the Common Room.

 

* * *

 

Ginny wasn't sure who had gathered enough hot chocolate for the entirety of Slytherin House – she strongly suspected Farley had strong-armed Bole and his lot into fetching it – but she silently thanked them as she drank and began to feel like a person again.

“That was the scariest thing I've ever seen in my life,” murmured Pansy quietly. She was sitting cross-legged in front of the fire, cradling her mug and staring hopefully up at Malfoy, who had been suspiciously silent for the better part of an hour. When he didn't react, Pansy sighed, shot an inexplicable glare at Ginny, and stared moodily back into the flames. Ginny rolled her eyes and ignored her; Pansy had been acting very oddly this year.

“Can't imagine what Azkaban must be like,” said Nott very quietly.

“Cheer up, you lot,” said Bletchley, ambling over. “Hufflepuff's in the lead by over a hundred. Like hell is Gryffindor coming back from that!”

“Where you off to?” grunted Montague at Flint, who, at these words, had gotten to his feet and was now heading toward the Common Room exit.

“Mind your own damn business,” he said, disappearing through the sliding wall. There was an awkward pause.

“I'm going to the Hospital Wing,” Ginny decided, getting up.

“Drink your chocolate first,” reminded Pucey amiably from a nearby armchair.

She slurped it at him obnoxiously before pouring the rest into his mug and setting the empty cup in his lap. He looked decidedly unimpressed but made no move to stop her as she began to follow Flint out the door.

“Thought you'd want to make a card beforehand,” said Malfoy without turning around. There was a hard edge in his voice. “That worked so well last year, after all.”

Ginny spun, feeling her face heat. “You've got a nerve, Malfoy,” she snarled. “Or am I the only one who's going to mention how your arm miraculously healed up the morning of the match?”

“She's got a point,” Bole spoke up. “We would've won today _and_ put Potter out of commission.”

Ginny felt her ears beginning to ring as she rounded on him. “That's not what I meant, you complete prat!” she continued. “Harry nearly _died_ and—”

“And you almost jumped off to join him!” Malfoy shot back, leaping out of his seat and facing off with her. “You expect me to believe you'd do that for any friend? For any of _us_?”

Ginny very nearly slapped him. “Malfoy, you ignorant git,” she ground out. “If you could pull your head out your arse for one bloody second...” She stopped abruptly, turning away and throwing her hands up. “Forget it, I'll see you all later.”

As she stormed away, she thought she heard Pucey muttering something but all she caught was, “I dunno, bloody oblivious, mate...”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -'Flint's rich graphorn-lined cloak' refers to a creature called a Graphorn, a ferocious mountain beast sometimes used by trolls as mounts. They're not described beyond their color and tough hides, but living in the mountains I can imagine they're also quite well-insulated hence good (but expensive) cloak material.
> 
> -I thought I was done with writing Slytherin Quidditch team shenanigans, but I don't think I will be for a while yet. Apologies. I do have plans to get to all the drama of the Chamber of Secrets and how Ginny's life will change following Voldemort's return in Goblet of Fire, but for now: Quidditch.
> 
> -This ficlet was inspired by two things:  
> 1\. I wanted to describe Ginny's reaction to the dementors from her point of view.  
> 2\. “Where is Wood?” said Harry, suddenly realizing he wasn't there. “Still in the showers,” said Fred. “We think he's trying to drown himself.” (Regretting a little that I am writing this from Ginny's POV and we can't actually see the conversation between Flint and Wood after that little snippet but it totally happened.)
> 
> -One more thing: canonically Ginny (was implied to have) sent Harry a singing Valentine her first year and did actually give him a homemade singing get-well card the following year. This is very amusing to me and her penchant for singing cards may show up again later.


End file.
